


An Hourglass of Ashes

by 372259



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/372259/pseuds/372259
Summary: A promise or a curse?{In the end it was both. They were both.}Harry has no choice, he has to save Hermione.{So he makes an ally of Death}Next the golden duo finds themselves thrust into a tilted past.{But playing with fate is a volatile game}They grin in relief when they recognize each other.{You see, by making an ally of Death...}Their smiles sour.{... Harry made an enemy of Time.}They've arrived from different futures.{Time does not appreciate being twisted.}And now neither is the person they knew before.





	1. Chapter 1: Three Prices Paid

**SUMMARY**

A promise or a curse? {In the end it was both. _They_ were both.}

Time did not appreciate being twisted, and Time made sure they knew it. {Harry x Hermione, HHr, Harmony}

Our golden duo is thrust into a tilted past. To make matters worse, they've arrived from different futures. To make matters disastrous, neither properly remembers anything. {_be careful Harry... you've made an ally of Death, but an enemy of Time..._}

**DISCLAIMER**

If I owned Harry Potter, I would not have five figures worth of student debt slowly sucking away my happiness. Honestly, student loans are essentially the Muggle Equivalent of a Dementor. This is all just a very verbose way of saying JKR owns Harry Potter and I, to my and my wallet's despair, do not. (Let's be real, if I did, then HHr would have happened, Draco would have gotten a massive redemption arc, in no way shape or form would either of the Weasley Twins died, and Teddy would not be an orphan.)

**MAIN PAIRING:**

Harry x Hermione

**BACKGROUND PAIRINGS/ OTHER RELATIONSHIPS:**

Lily x James, Frank x Alice, Blaise x Luna (later). I am open to other pairings.

Marauders friendship (barr the wretched rat), Alice and James friendship.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

WARNING - Characters that are _**ostensibly**_ being bashed will (mostly) be redeemed, and I will try to give reasons for OOC'ness. I am going to try to avoid gross mischaracterizations (e.g. Ron and Molly will at **no** point be calling Hermione a mudblood). That being said, it's a Harry x Hermione fan fiction, so of course there will be some non-cannon (but should have been cannon) feelings and reactions. There will be at least one major OC in this: Harry's brother. This will be a pseudo WBWL fic, you'll see what I mean later ;-). This fic will be addressing some morally dark themes, and you will often be encountering a Grey!Harry and a Grey!Hermione. This first chapter is more of a teaser to gauge interest in the story, so if you enjoy please do let me know that you want more by leaving a comment/ kudos/ review!

* * *

**An Hourglass of Ashes**

* * *

_"_ _Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry."_

_~ Hermione Granger, Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Three Prices Paid

* * *

_"_ _You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us?"_

_~ Albus Dumbledore, Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

Harry opens his eyes to an endless expanse of white.

_'Death is silent.'_

His thought echoes loudly compared to the quiet space. The stray words are closely followed by the relieved observation that he isn't in any pain. It is a welcome but surprising state, as the last sensation he remembers is the cold impact of a familiar green light.

_'__Third time's the charm,'_ he notes bitterly.

_'__Oh, don't you dare be so broody, Harry James Potter.'_ Hermione would chastise teasingly, probably while playfully cuffing him over the head. Her warm brown eyes would shine as she smiled to soften her reprimand. Or, at least, she _would _tease and she _would _smile. If she were here. If she weren't… if she weren't…

_'_ _The dead don't smile.'_

Harry's gut twists violently, and flashes of their past encounters burn behind his eyes.

_("There's a reason I can hear them, the horcruxes. I think I've known for a while, and I think you have too." Harry's voice breaks at the end._

_Hermione drops her grip on Ron's arm and cautiously approaches Harry, slightly limping as she meanders around the ruins of Hogwarts – the crumbling imitation of what was once their home. A bastion of safety, now broken and beaten; a shade in the place of a beacon._

_"I'll go with you." Hermione offers, gaze tearful and pleading._

_"No." Harry shakes his head roughly. "Promise me, Hermione. Promise me you won't follow me. Kill the snake. Kill the snake, and then it's just him."_

_His words barely leave before she clings to him. She clutches him cruelly, in a way that reminds him of what he is really sacrificing. Her grip tightens. _ _She doesn't smell like vanilla or honey; just tragedy. He lifts his cheek from her shoulder, looks over it to meet Ron's devastated face. There is no easy-going smile, no willful ignorance, not anymore. They all know that Harry James Potter will die today. 'I'm trusting you with the snake,' Harry wants to say to Ron, as resigned green meets bereaved blue. 'I'm trusting you with Hermione, Ron. I need you to stand by her. Love her, appreciate her; I want you both to live long and happy lives even if they are without me. I'm sorry you have to lose another brother. Be happy, Ron.' Harry wants to say a lot of things to the first friend he ever had, but he thinks his battered soul can't push the last words from his lips._

_"Promise me, Hermione," he repeats instead.)_

It had been a miniature war within an ongoing battle to force the promise from her bloodied lips, but she ultimately relented. Her desperate words and begrudging concession had alighted a bittersweet hesitation from him. And he remembers, at the time, feeling morosely unsurprised. He had thought it fitting - quite on par the course for his life - that he would begin to suspect the true depth of Hermione's feelings for him just moments before he faced certain death.

Only he hadn't died. Not that time, anyways.

Voldemort's defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts is merely one chapter in the saga of tales lived by the Golden Trio. In the aftermath of the battle, their world gave a good show of healing, and masquerading itself for the better. Harry and Ron were accepted into the Auror Academy. Ginny and Hermione finished their final year lined in Gryffindor colours before the latter proudly joined _The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_. Kingsley Shacklebolt was announced as the new Minister for Magic. Death Eaters were arrested. There was no looming plot or conspiracy; they were finally safe and they were finally _happy_.

Of course, their respite from misery was a transient thing.

Ron and Hermione had a falling out, a much more volatile (if less publicized) one than Harry and Ginny's own. The Ministry's corruption continued, foiling many of Kingsley's attempts at progress. Not all, but at least some, known Death Eaters were given pardons. Pureblood supremacy was hidden but existent, spawning secret factions that worked with foul intentions. It was one of those vulgar groups that ripped the most important person in Harry's life from him.

Hermione Jane Granger, age 21, was tortured to death just three days after she secured the passing of an equal work pay rights bill for magical creatures. The perpetrators of the depraved act had taken wizarding photos of their atrocious deeds, and then sent them to news outlets and families alike, eager to breed panic. However, only Harry's package of moving photos had been also accompanied by a letter.

_'_ _To the Boy-Destined-To-Die,_

_The Mudblood begged for you to save her in between her screams.'_

Ron did not handle Hermione's death well. The Weasley blamed both Harry and himself for not finding and saving her in time. And once, when Ron first started to accept that she was truly dead, he even blamed Hermione herself for choosing to save Harry instead of running when she sensed the shadows that followed the duo back from the bill's congratulatory dinner.

Ron had been a mess for weeks.

But Harry?

Harry saw red.

Red. Red. Red.

And he saw nothing but red after the vile photos for months. When his vision finally cleared, he found himself standing in a room doused in the rotten iron stench of blood and guts and gore.

Red. Red. Red.

_("H-Harry? What… Oh Merlin, Harry, what did you do?!")_

Ron had been part of the Auror squad that was first on site at the gruesome scene.

Red. Red. Red.

_\- Remember the colour of the Torture curse? -_

Ron, his _brother_; a sentiment that remained true even after Ron started to suspect that Harry loved his ex-fiancé, and even after Ron realized that Hermione had softened towards the would-have-been-best-man's advances. His brother's blue eyes had widened in disbelief and horror. Harry supposed he should have been equally appalled at his own actions, but all Harry felt was justice.

_("They tortured her, Ron.")_

Harry remembers saying, a cold neutrality carving his jaw as he looked upon the advancing Aurors' wary eyes and raised wands.

_("I only wish I had killed them slower.")_

Harry saw it clearly; the shattered look in Ron's dulled eyes when the Weasley realized that – in all the ways that mattered - both his best friends were gone. And it wasn't worth much in the end, was it? Because vengeance had been a fleeting filler for the festering wound in Harry's chest. The supremacist bastards' blood had not breathed back life into Hermione's corpse. Harry's carmine crusade had not brought her back...

A black wraith drifts into Harry's peripheral vision, and he rips himself from his bleak musings to attend to it. The robed spectre starkly contrasts against the bleached setting, and its threadbare appearance steals Harry's attention from the sharp red and blue fragments in his mind. Blithely, Harry wonders if he should assume a defensive position, then quickly decides that any protective movement would serve no point. After all, the Boy-Who-Lived is dead. For true, this time. That being said, even if Harry does not fear the approaching skeletal hands of the dastardly apparition, neither is Harry ambivalent towards the wafting beast hidden by floating dark fabrics. No, there is no ambivalence, just... _resolution_.

Harry has intent. He has a purpose, a goal... a_ promise._

_("Promise me, Hermione. Promise me you won't follow me.")_

She had promised, but he hadn't promised back. So when they took her from him, he followed. And isn't that just ironic? The Boy-Who-_Lived_ chasing the Girl-Who-_Died_.

_'_ _This time, I'm saving you. Hermione, I'm coming.'_

The bony hands of the shrouded spectre recede, and the monster's hollow eyes seem amused when its voice rasps, **"Peverell blood."** Malicious delight twists the creature's mouth as it gleefully warns,** "I give nothing for free."**

Harry nods. Then he steels himself to make the same mistake as his ancestors.

_("I'll go with you.")_

It was time to make a deal with Death.

* * *

Preview for Chapter 2 below.

Author's Note: Whelp, that's a taste of this new fic. **Question**: which of the following names do you guys prefer for Harry's brother (the one who will be heralded as the BWL)?

A) Evan (after Lily's maiden name)

B) Daniel (after Radcliffe)

C) Charlie/Charlus (after Charlus potter, the boys' paternal grandfather)

D) Other

Image credited to following sources:

/clubs /harry-and-hermione-x-ron-and-luna /images/ 34648381/ title/ harry-hermione-fanart

/ free-transparent-background -png- clipart-bcmoa

/ free-transparent-background -png- clipart-kneza

svgsilh (dotcom) slash image slash

* * *

**Preview of Upcoming Chapters**

* * *

\- an altered attack at Godric's Hollow on October 31st,1981 (_James Potter does not hate his eldest son, despite the infamous horrors on the stormy evening of October 31__st__, 1981.)_

\- a second prophecy (_There isn't even time to mull over the longer-term implications of the prophecy, no time to notice or question the way Dumbledore warily eyes their eldest son, a cautious gaze mirroring the way he once apprised a young boy in Wool's Orphanage)_

\- Harry meets Hermione _("And here I thought you a hero. How selfish, to sentence her to such a life.")_

* * *

**Please review if you enjoyed :-)**


	2. The First Was Family

****I ****EDITED ****and ****REPOSTED ****THE FIRST CHAPTER ON OCT 21****st** ** ****

* * *

**SUMMARY**

A promise or a curse? {in the end it was both. _They_ were both.}

Time did not appreciate being twisted, and Time made sure they knew it. {Harry x Hermione, HHr, Harmony}

Our golden duo is thrust into a tilted past. To make matters worse, they've arrived from different futures. To make matters disastrous, neither properly remembers anything. {_be careful Harry... you may have made an ally of Death, but you've made enemy of Time._}

**DISCLAIMER**

If I owned Harry Potter, I would not have five figures worth of student debt slowly sucking away my happiness. Honestly, student loans are essentially the Muggle Equivalent of a Dementor. This is all just a very verbose way of saying JKR owns Harry Potter and I, to my and my wallet's despair, do not. (Let's be real, if I did, then HHr would have happened, Draco would have gotten a massive redemption arc, and in no way shape or form would either of the Twins died.)

**MAIN PAIRING:**

Harry x Hermione

**BACKGROUND PAIRINGS/ OTHER RELATIONSHIPS:**

Lily x James, Frank x Alice, Blaise x Luna (later). I am open to other pairings if you suggest them.

Marauders friendship (barr the wretched rat), Alice and James friendship.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

WARNING - Characters that are **_ostensibly_** being bashed will (mostly) be redeemed, and I will try to give reasons for OOC'ness. I am going to try to avoid gross mischaracterizations (e.g. Ron and Molly will at **no** point be calling Hermione a mudblood). That being said, it's a Harry x Hermione fan fiction, so of course there will be some non-cannon (but should have been cannon) feelings and reactions. There will be at least one OC in this story. The major one will be Harry's brother (this will be a pseudo WBWL fic, you'll see what I mean later ;-) ). This fic will be addressing some morally dark themes, and you will often be encountering a Grey!Harry and a Grey!Hermione. If you enjoy this story, please do let me know that you want more by leaving a comment/ kudos/ review!

P.S. If you like Game of Thrones (especially Arya, Gendry, Shireen, Rhaenys, and Rickon), Supernatural, Bleach, Gundam Seed, Degrassi, Vampire Diaries, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or The Hunger Games, please give my other stories a try!

* * *

**An Hourglass of Ashes**

* * *

_"_ _Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry."_

_~ Hermione Granger, Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The First Was Family

* * *

_"…_ _When love is in its strongest form, it is the most powerful thing on this earth. It kills, saves lives, heals wounds, and most of all, brings hope. That is what you have done for me, Lily. You have brought me hope. When I look into your eyes, I know that no matter what may happen to me, as long as I can see those eyes staring back at me, then I'll be fine."_

_~ James Potter, Mordred_

* * *

_Once upon a time, a ten-year-old girl and boy played amongst the tangled paths of a verdant maze._

"Was it worth it?" The girl asks while raising an unimpressed brow. "Well?" She prods once more from her position kneeling beside the boy. At his unrepentant smirk, she narrows her gaze towards her careless companion and his newly acquired wound.

The ink-haired boy grins back unashamedly from his prone position on the ground. "This?" He points to the bleeding cut on his calf that they have only just staunched. "Oh _please_. I've had worse paper cuts," he boasts.

The girl scowls at his preening. Her last few scrubs are just a tad bit firmer than necessary. With a huff, she finally finishes using (soiling) one of her silk handkerchiefs in an effort to clean the cut on the boy's leg. She folds the cloth as best she can, and puts it in her day bag before gracefully rising from her bent position beside the hooligan. With all the gumption of a girl of ten years, she sets her arms akimbo and berates the boy. "This is _exactly_ why I warned you not to climb the hedges."

The messy-haired boy has the gall to direct a pointed look to her own scuffed knees, easily visible above her below-knee stockings as she hadn't yet set her dress right (after tucking the bottom of its skirt in on itself to protect the expensive fabric from the dirt). At his implication, she rolls her eyes before dramatically unfurling the bottom of her dress to easily cover the marks of her earlier rebellion. "These are my family's gardens, you know." She scoffs. "I've grown up climbing these hedge walls. All of them, even the highest ones. I knew I wouldn't fall. But, I knew you would, and you did."

The boy scratches the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. "Well, it _was_ fun… up until the fall," he says lightly, as if the momentary pleasure justified the injury. He shrugs his shoulders. "Thanks for giving me a hand, and all."

She rolls her eyes once more at his typically boyish gratitude, before reaching down to help him stand. "Well I couldn't just leave you bleeding out on our grounds, now could I? You seem the type who would be silly enough to go about getting lost, you know." Her smirk turns impish. "You were actually the only interesting guest at this stuffy event, so me helping you was a bit for me too, you know. Besides, one day, I'm going to be the best Healer in England. You have the honor of being my very first patient."

The newly upright boy offers her a mischievous smirk in return, before lightly tugging at one of her pigtails. "You're alright, _you know_, for a girl."

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. "You're less than a nightmare yourself, _for a __boy_," she finished mockingly.

He grins abashedly. "So… You willing to help a cripple boy limp out of this maze?"

She rolls her eyes, but her small smile belies her affected ire. "I already said I'm not leaving you, Potter."

She gently slides her arm under his shoulder, and lets him lean against her as they slowly make their way towards the maze's exit and back towards to Summer Luncheon. The boy smirks good-naturedly before dramatically declaring. "How Hufflepuff of you, Greengrass." His smirk quickly softens into a genuine smile. "Next year, I'm going to be a Gryffindor. So I'm sure, one day, I'll be saving you back."

She snorts. "Well, you sure think pretty highly of yourself. I'll have you know, Potter, I'm in the successful business of saving myself, thank you very much." Her nose scrunches. "I'm no damsel."

"Well then, I suppose we'll just have to settle for being friends until I can think of a way to repay you for your heroic deeds." He uses his free hand to exaggeratedly smack a hand over his heart. _"My very own dearest knight in shining armour_." The foolish action unbalances them both, and nearly sends them both keeling over towards the ground. But, they manage to stay upright.

The girl means to chastise him once again, but instead finds herself giggling at the boy's dramatic flair. His laughter follows soon after.

(They are both lonely children without brothers or sisters, or even cousins close in age. They meet as strangers, and make siblings of each other.

Consequence is not a word a ten-year-old considers.)

* * *

_~ "Well, it was fun… up until the fall" ~_

* * *

** _James Potter does not hate his eldest son, despite the infamous horrors on the stormy evening of October 31_ ** ** _st_ ** ** _, 1981._ **

* * *

James's first child enters the world quietly. On July 31, 1980, the newborn Harry James Potter roughly gasps to clear his lungs of amniotic fluid. After an initial bout of newborn coughing, the new Potter quickly settles into steady, calm breaths. The nearly inaudible new heir to the house is followed, exactly two minutes and seven seconds later, by the ear-piercing wails of Evan Charlus Potter.

James - officially Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter since his beloved father's passing six months ago - thinks nothing strange of his eldest son's behaviour at delivery. Rather, James is too busy beaming and crying alongside the love of his life, holding her as she holds their sons, and trying to bask in the sheer joy and hope saturating the moment. It's an idyllic scene in Potter Manor as Alice Longbottom (a healer who is here mere seven days after delivering her own son), finishes guiding Harry and Evan into the world and into their parents' awaiting arms.

There is too much love filling the space for there to be room to question Harry's modest entrance into their lives, or to question the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

And yet, Jame's eldest son's… _oddities_… continue.

As the weeks and months progress, Harry does not cry or laugh. He doesn't even smile. Lily and James both fret about this. Is there something wrong? Are they not good parents? Is their eldest son sick? To their relief, Alice (James's childhood friend, his Auror team's designated healer, and the godmother of the twins) is always just a floo call away to assuage their fears.

Well, James is reassured.

Lily is not.

_Alice offers the Potters a tired smile, having no doubt stayed up the night prior to tend to her own young babe. "Harry is a little quiet, yes, but I've examined him thoroughly. All of my diagnostic spells are clear. Even over that admittedly strange birthmark on his forehead. I promise you both, he is physically healthy. Some young ones are just a little slower to adjust socially, but I'm confident he will catch up soon." Of course, James trusts Alice with his life. This strong and confident woman was once a pig-tailed and pig-headed girl he befriended when he was a rambunctious and riotous boy being dragged to the annual Greengrass Summer Luncheon. And so, even before Hogwarts, he settled quickly into the role of her self-appointed overprotective brother, and she easily cast herself into the part of annoying little sister. Their Hogwarts years were spent mostly in loud banter and quiet defense of each other. He had the Marauder's prank that prick Goldstein relentlessly after the fool stood Alice up on her first date, and she was the one who sat him down and told him in clear terms exactly why Lily Evans refused his grand romantic overtures. James became her unwavering support when facing Augusta Longbottom's relentless scrutiny of her grey family name, and Alice was his steadfast advocate when Lily was learning to love him in their final years of Hogwarts. He stood right behind Alice and Frank when they buried her parents; and she spent the three horrible days from their symptom onset to their death trying to save his parents from Dragon Pox. Alice saved James's own life no less than four times in the field during this wretched war. And so, after over a decade of pseudo-siblingship, James Potter will forever trust Alice Greengrass's (now Longbottom's) words. So he believes her wholly when she holds his shoulder, looks him straight in the eyes, and tell him confidently that "nothing is wrong with Harry."_

But _there_ _is_. According to Lily, at least.

_Lily huddles into him, and he feel cold dampness soaking a wet patch onto his chest. "He is _sad_, James. I can feel this thick… despair coming off of him in waves, every moment of every day and every night. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Am I so terrible a mother that I can't even make my child happy?"_

James understands his wife's concerns. How can he not contemplate their validity, when looking upon Harry's stoic face and unmovable green eyes is such an unsettling experience? Even Sirius, the boy's godfather, expresses concerns regarding the Potter heir's placid temperament. Of course, Sirius once made some (admittedly pretty funny, if poorly timed) joke about how it was a good thing they didn't have to wake up so often in the night, as they would have if Harry was even half as dramatic as Evan. Lily didn't talk to Padfoot for three days after that. She was convinced he was belittling her concerns, and didn't much appreciate it. Of course, Sirius was just being Sirius, trying to entice a smile during a dark time.

And then, a not-so-fake seer uses a job interview to blankly intone words in some dank pub. With her carelessly spoken ominous verses, there is suddenly no more time for worries over a toddler's austere personality. _(There isn't even time to mull over the longer-term implications of the prophecy, no time to notice or question the way Dumbledore warily eyes their eldest son, a cautious gaze mirroring the way he once apprised a young boy in Wool's Orphanage)._ Instead, the Potters' time is spent barricading their home with wards and hiding their twins from the twisted hands of a murderous madman.

Then comes another horrific whisper: the warnings of a spy hidden within the Order's trusted ranks. This time, the words send the Potters away from their ancestral manor. They begin to spend their days and nights ensconced in an older, lesser known Potter property. It's a portly thing wedged on a small lot in Godric's Hollow. Frank and Alice, the other pair who have a child fitting the story spun by Trelawney's Merlin-forsaken prophecy, choose to stay in their ancestral home despite the news of a potential turncoat. But of course, James does not find out about the duo's decision from Alice and Frank, but from a breathless Sirius who announces his arrival by banging harshly on their new door in Godric's Hollow.

_"_ _James, wait," pleads Lily. "You know her, and you know him." Lily gives her husband a sad and aggrieved look; one lined with the suspicion that their friends' stubborn decision will lead the Longbottoms to early graves. "You won't change her mind, James. I wish you could, but you won't."_

_"_ _Watch me." James scowls, gently removing his wife's grip from his forearm._

Sirius's hurried words and Lily's premature grief send him flooing to a familiar Scottish estate, trembling with conviction.

_"_ _Please, Alice, see sense! There is no Order member who doesn't know the location of Longbottom Manor!" James begs, stepping towards one of his dearest friends. He meets her trademark icy blue eyes, and his stomach lurches when he recognizes that they remain unyielding to his protests. Terror thrums through his veins, his vision teeters…_

_He sees a pig-tailed little girl dooming herself to death._

_The no-longer-ten-year-old-girl offers him a tender look before her back straightens and her mouth hardens. "Frank and I refuse to be chased out of our home by a coward who fashions himself as some _Dark Lord_." She curves the epithet with mocking derision._

_James grabs her shoulders, then desperately shakes them as though the action will somehow change the fool's mind. "You'll get yourselves killed, Allie. Please, I'm begging you. Take Dumbledore's offer. Or even better, stay with us!"_

_Alice's stubborn look softens as she responds. "Oh Jamie, we'll be fine. Augusta and Frank have both strengthened our wards. I'll be okay." She places her small, calloused hand atop one of his own, and offers him the same hopeful smile she did back when they were ten – back when she nervously approached a bored boy with an offer of escape, and guided him from a stuffy luncheon to an adventure in a hedge maze._

_Her arms come around him, pulling him from the past. "We'll all be okay."_

_Alice's reassuring words send James's gut roiling. There is a cold finality to their embrace, the kind that creeps up his spine with an icy and unremitting grip._

_That night, he dreams he is ten years old, weaving through verdant twists and turns as he chases a giggling blonde girl, her pigtails swinging as she joyfully dances out of his view. It's all good and fun, but then her laughter quiets. And then… then her screams begin. James desperately calls for her, runs as fast as he can, trying to search for the little girl he swore himself to protect, only to lose her in the sinister shadowed grip of the towering hedges._

_He wakes up sobbing, and Lily clutches him tightly, running a familiar hand through his hair until he settles._

* * *

Alice is one of only three trusted individuals who know the address to the Potter's new safe-house, the other two being Sirius and Dumbledore. As the second week of October 1981 chills the air, a third Marauder is trusted with the secret.

_"_ _This is the best way." Opines Sirius, has he paces on the red carpet lining their living room. "My family is insane. They are hunting me, thinking I know the secret of Harry and Evan's location. And James, you know I would die before ever letting even a word of this address fall into their ears… but I know the dark spells lining Grimoires that haunt the Black Libraries. If they come across any sort of blood magic… James, I doubt my parents died before naming Regulus the heir. I… I can't trust that he hasn't already found a way to use our Family Magic to force the truth from me."_

Remus is not an option for the very reason Sirius no longer is; Fenrir being Moony's own warped version of Regulus. James adamantly refuses Lily's request to name Alice or Frank (he'll not put another target on his sister's back, not when the sound of her screams from his nightmare still echo in his ears).

The meek and mousy Peter Pettigrew is named the Potter's secret-keeper on October 29th.

* * *

On the stormy evening of October 31st, the quietest babe to ever be wails unrepentantly for hours.

_"_ _Please James, I need you to get Alice. Sometime terrible is wrong with Harry, I just know it." Lily begs._

_James does not want to leave his family unprotected, and protests his wife's pleas resolutely. "I refuse to leave you all here alone. Padfoot is due to return within the hour. I'll wait at least until—"_

_His idea is cut off by an especially belligerent howl from his heir._

_Lily's beautiful green eyes turn wet and wild. She grips his arms tightly. "Please, my love. For Harry."_

* * *

_"_ _For Harry."_

Those are Lily Potter's last words to her husband.

* * *

Alice and James return to a half-destroyed home. They race up the steps, only to find Lily's corpse laid before the cribs of their sons. Evan loudly screeches from his position in his crib, sobbing uncontrollably with bright red blood dribbling from an "S" shaped scar on his left cheek.

Harry, whose brash bawling was the only reason James was not here to protect his wife, is sleeping soundly in his crib.

* * *

_"_ _JAMES!" Sirius barrels into the battered house mere moments after Alice and James discover Lily's body. "JAMES!"_

_Alice immediately runs out of the twins' bedroom to confront Sirius, while James remains unmoved from his position on the floor, near catatonic with disbelief as he cradles his wife's cold body._

_If James was paying attention, he would have heard Alice whispering to Sirius as she tries but fails to settle the wailing Evan in her arms. ("She's dead, Sirius. Lily's dead.) But James's attention merely alternates between the lack of pulse at his wife's neck, and the soft, quiet breaths of Harry._

_If James was paying attention, he would have recognized the wayward direction of his thoughts. ('How dare you sleep so soundly after your screeching… after you led your mother to her death.')_

_If James was paying attention, he would have heard Alice gasping out Frank and Neville's names; he would have heard her quickly handing Evan to a protesting Sirius. ("Don't you dare go back there alone Alice, are you insane?!")_

_If James was paying attention, he would have heard Alice flooing back to Longbottom Manor._

* * *

_~ "I'm going to be a Gryffindor. So I'm sure, one day, I'll be saving you back." ~_

* * *

In the end, it is Sirius who dons the armour. Sirius, whose Auror training wins out over his Gryffindor recklessness. Sirius cannot be Padfoot, not tonight.

_Auror_ _Black_ – after faced with a vacant-eyed James who refused to leave Lily, and a frantic Alice who ran back to her manor despite his warnings – floos the Potter twins to the Headmaster's office. In that office, he happens upon an unbelievably well-timed higher echelon Order meeting between Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Pomphrey, and Moody.

Auror Black gives a succinct report and request for assistance.

Dumbledore takes charge immediately, efficiently delegating out tasks. He assigns the Deputy Headmistress to protect the twins, and he whispers an address to Madame Pomphrey before sending her to tend to and protect a grieving James in Godric's Hollow. With steeled resolve, the Headmaster, a renowned Dueling champion, an infamous Auror captain, and a vengeful Marauder floo to Longbottom Manor.

* * *

The four Order members exit the Longbottom fireplace with their wands raised.

As soon as they step into the ancient manor, they see the grotesque image of Alice Longbottom brutally convulsing on the ground. They hear her screaming under the unforgiving red lights streaming from the wands of a maliciously gleeful pair of Lestrange brothers.

They also see Frank under similar red lights, but coming from the outstretched wands of Bellatrix and Barty Crouch Jr. Only he wasn't convulsing, and he wasn't screaming.

Frank wasn't moving at all.

* * *

_~"I knew I wouldn't fall. But, I knew you would, and you did."~_

* * *

The Second Great Wizarding War ends.

James's bitter thoughts towards his eldest son do not.

(James doesn't blame Sirius for not coming sooner. How could he blame his closest brother anything? But for some reason... for some intangible reason, it is easy to blame Harry).

Of course, Alice notices, and she stubbornly brings it up more than once.

"That's enough, Allie. It's time for you to leave." James turns away from her, voice haggard as he clutches the iron-wrought railing of the Potter Manor's porch. He stumbles, and thinks he rather likes the taste of hard liquor. (Sometimes he sees Lily's reflection in the bottom of the bottles.) Indulging in the burning liquid is not a thing he will make a habit of, he hopes, but he feels he deserves this one night of numbness at the very least.

He hears his sister sigh. "Harry isn't the author of your misfortune, Jamie. That was Voldemort. That was Peter." He hears her approach, and tenses when he feels her palm gently grip his shoulder.

She hasn't touched him in a while. Not a hug, not a hand, not a cuff on the head. Not anything.

* * *

_~ "I already said I'm not leaving you, Potter." ~_

* * *

_"_ _She'll be afraid of physical touch for a long time." Madame Pomphrey tells them with a heavy voice. "She'll have tremors, phantom pains…" James feels himself grow dizzy as the skilled mediwitch continues to list the suffering his sister will have to endure. Only Sirius and Remus's steady grips keep him from collapsing. "I will try to give her potions to help control the nightmares… but this is not something that will get better with potions. Truthfully, this is something that may not even get better with time."_

_James just nods, his eyes glued to the prone form of the not-little-girl-but-still-little-sister-and-what-would-have-happened-to-her-if-Sirius-hadn't…_

_James needs only to glance over to the adjacent bed, where a red-eyed Augusta Longbottom stands vigil over her blank-eyed son, to know the answer… to comprehend the terrible fate that Sirius saved his sister from._

* * *

_~ "Helping you was a bit for me too, you know." ~_

* * *

He doesn't want to hurt her.

But really, what could possibly hurt her more than associating with him?

"Do you blame me, Allie?"

He doesn't need to face her to know that her face crumples at his hoarsely whispered question. "Don't, Jamie. Please. Please, don't bring this up again."

James lets out a derisive laugh, a bitter and empty thing. "How can you not blame me? If Sirius hadn't come for you, you would be just like darling Frank, and Neville would have a fucking vegetable for a mum as well as for a dad—"

He really, _really_ deserves the bruised cheek from Alice's fierce slap.

"How dare you!?" She screams. She shoves his chest harshly, then continues to shove it repeatedly. "How could you?!" She screams again and again. And then her shouts devolve into wails before devolving into sobs. Eventually she ends up clutching his shirt instead of shoving his chest. And of course, they're both sobbing into each other's arms not long after, mourning the losses of the respective loves of their lives.

"I'm sorry Allie. Merlin, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave." He begs her, his voice wet as he decides he never wants to touch a drop of alcohol again. Not ever. Not when it turns him into someone that hurts his family. Not when it turns him into someone capable of hurting the girl he swore to always protect. "Please don't leave." He says again, burying his face into her shoulder, and guiltily continuing to do so despite her initial flinch.

She gently unties herself from his embrace before placing both her hands on his tear-laden cheeks. She offers him a wet smile and a quit promise. "I already said I'm not leaving you, Potter. Remember?"

With her words, they become two little kids again, injured and leaning on each other as they try to navigate themselves out of the twisted path.

* * *

_~"You seem the type who would be silly enough to go about getting lost, you know." ~_

* * *

** _James Potter does not hate his eldest son, despite the infamous horrors on the evening of October 31_ ** ** _st_ ** ** _, 1981._ **

** _And yet…_ **

** _He may not hate Harry, but it is a damn battle to love the boy that he blames for Lily's death. _ ** ** _And it's a battle he cannot fight forever._ **

* * *

In a scene that happened (but because it happened, won't actually happen), a young veteran meets a fabled figure.

**"So, boy, tell me true. Whose vice did you inherit? Antioch's ambition, Cadmus's obsession, or your sire Ignotus's paranoia?"**

Harry doesn't respond (he doesn't need to). They both know that Harry is a smidgeon of all three vices (and then a smattering of others too).

Instead, the two beings on the expansive white plane talk terms. It is transaction of careful words, as they barter over intangible things like love and life. It ends with Harry clenching his fists, and the creature cackling coarsely to punctuate his unwanted commentary.

**"And here I thought you a hero. How selfish, to sentence her to such a life."**

* * *

**End of Chapter 2**

* * *

**Next Questions:**

1 - Would you rather Hermione be sorted into Slytherin or another House? (I'll be honest, right now, I'm heavily leaning towards Slytherin!)

2 – Would you rather see more of Neville or Ron?

3 – Would you rather see Hermione as the fourth Triwizard Champion, or Harry?

4 - How did you guys like the Alice and James friendship?

**Next chapter: **  
Harry and Hermione "meet" !

**If you are enjoying this fic, please leave a comment/ kudos/ review! **Let me know what you like/don't like, and let me know if you guys spot any grammar mistakes please!

So the primary pairing in this story is Harry x Hermione. I don't think James and Alice will be a pairing, I think I'm going to keep them as siblings/besties. Harry's relationship with James will be… strained. I hoped to use this chapter to show some of James' POV before introducing Harry and James relationship from Harry's POV (also to help explain why the Potters and Longbottoms will end up being so close). I meant to get to the Harry and Hermione part in this chapter, but James's POV ran away from me LOL. It was legit supposed to be a paragraph smh. After polling the commenters, Evan Charlus Potter won out as the name of Harry's younger brother, so hopefully you guys are happy with it!


	3. Chapter 3: The First Was Family Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Blotts laughs. "I suppose a villain always makes for a better story."  
Harry quirks his brow. "Or at least a less predictable one."
> 
> A promise or a curse?  
{In the end it was both. They were both.}  
Harry has no choice, he has to save Hermione.  
{So he makes an ally of Death}  
And the golden duo finds themselves thrust into a tilted past.  
{But playing with fate is a volatile game.}  
They grin when they recognize each other, relieved.  
{You see, by making an ally of Death...}  
Then their smiles sour.  
{... Harry made an enemy of Time.}  
Because they've arrived from different futures.  
{And Time does not appreciate being twisted.}  
And neither is the person they knew before.

**SUMMARY**

A promise or a curse? {In the end it was both. _They_ were both.}

Time did not appreciate being twisted, and Time made sure they knew it. Our golden duo is thrust into a tilted past. To make matters worse, they've arrived from different futures. To make matters disastrous, neither properly remembers anything. {_Be careful Harry... you've made an ally of Death, but an enemy of Time_}

**DISCLAIMER**

If I owned Harry Potter, I would not have five figures worth of student debt slowly sucking away my happiness. Honestly, student loans are essentially the Muggle Equivalent of a Dementor. This is all just a very verbose way of saying JKR owns Harry Potter and I, to my and my wallet's despair, do not. (Let's be real, if I did, then HHr would have happened, Draco would have gotten a massive redemption arc, and in no way shape or form would either of the Twins died.)

**MAIN PAIRING:**

Harry x Hermione

**BACKGROUND PAIRINGS/ OTHER RELATIONSHIPS:**

Lily x James, Frank x Alice, Blaise x Luna (later). I am open to other pairings if you suggest them.

Marauders friendship (barr the wretched rat), Alice and James friendship.

**STORY SO FAR:**

Future 1: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny breakup as do Ron and Hermione. Adult Harry makes a deal with Death after he brutally kills the people responsible for torturing and killing Hermione.

Past 2: James and Alice become best friends, Harry James Potter and Evan Charlus Potter are born. The former is a stoic baby, which worries his parents, especially Lily. The Potters and Longbottoms go into hiding after Trelawny gives a prophecy (hint: it's different from cannon). Harry's out-of-character unremitting wailing on Halloween makes Lily send James to bring Alice (a healer) to Godric's Hollow. James and Alice return to a crying Evan with an "S" shaped scar on his cheek, a sleeping Harry, and a dead Lily. Sirius come sin shortly after, fails to stop Alice from going to Longbottom Manor, then takes the twins to Dumbledore's office where an Order meeting is happening. Sirius & Co. save Alice, but Frank is in the same state as cannon. James still holds bitter feelings towards Harry, blaming his son for the death of Lily.

**MAJOR AU CHANGE: wizards and witches start year one at Hogwarts at AGE TWELVE (NOT ELEVEN), and are 'of age' at eighteen (not seventeen).**

* * *

**An Hourglass of Ashes**

* * *

_"Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry."_

_~ Hermione Granger, Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The First Was Family, Part II

* * *

_"Makes a diff'rence, havin' a decent family... If they'd lived, life woulda bin diff'rent, eh?"_

_"Yeah . . . I s'pose," said Harry cautiously. Hagrid seemed to be in a very strange mood._

_"Family," said Hagrid gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important. . . ."_

_~ Harry Potter & Hagrid, the Order of the Phoenix_

* * *

Harry James Potter _knows_… things. Things that he shouldn't (couldn't possibly) know. After multiple incidences proves its veracity, he passively accepts the foreign knowledge traipsing between his everyday thoughts. After all, questioning the… information that he shouldn't have (but somehow does) only ever leads to headaches, confusion, and awkward situations.

For example, when five-year-old Harry first meets Ronald Weasley, he knows that Ron and him can never be friends. And yet, at the same time, he knows that they would make the very best of friends.

(_'Brothers, even.' _The voice in his head tauntingly whispers.)

"Okay, boys. Arthur and I are going to the study to discuss some adult business. Behave," James Potter warns his sons, one more so than the other. The Lord of the Manor guides his redheaded visitor towards the staircase, before tossing an offhand "and make sure to include Ron!" over his shoulder.

The Potter and Weasley patriarchs both depart the front foyer of Potter Manor, leaving three young boys facing each other, one a bit more removed from the other two.

"Err, hello…" offers the freckled one. The young Weasley awkwardly scratches the back of his head before nervously stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. But, well, I guess you knew that, from your dad saying my name, and all."

Evan responds eagerly, nearly cutting Ron off in his enthusiasm. "Hi, Ron! I'm Evan! Evan Potter! Good to meet you, mate!"

Both turn expectant gazes onto Harry. The older Potter boy wants to say hi _so badly _and extend an offer to play chess. Harry somehow _knows_ that playing even just one game will be the start of a wondrous friendship with this new (yet somehow familiar) boy. But the voice warns Harry to stay away.

(_'Breath of the godfather,' _it whispers coldly, perhaps even mockingly. _'Careful, careful.'_)

Sometimes Harry suspects he might be crazy. He's pretty certain sane wizards don't constantly battle voices no one else can hear. Delaying social protocol, Harry loses himself in his head, trying to convince the voice to let him make a friend. Unknowing of this inner conflict, Evan scowls at his older brother, before smiling apologetically towards their guest. "That's Harry," Evan says, rolling his eyes. "He likes books. He doesn't like people." The youngest Potter's hazel gaze darts once more to his still-quiet brother, and his nose scrunches in annoyance. "He isn't very nice with people, either. Never plays with me, or anything. So it's not just you, don't worry."

Ron tilts his head, confused. "Oh. Books aren't much fun?"

"Harry isn't either." Evan scowls. "He's just quiet and hates talking with me... or anyone else, really."

Harry wants to defend himself. _'But really, there isn't a point,' _he thinks morosely. The voice already refused, and Harry learned the hard way on a terrible Halloween night to never go against the voice. So while Evan and Ron scamper off to play _Knights N' Knaves_ in the attic, Harry embarks on his usual solo trek towards the library.

(_'You need to know more,' _the voice hisses_. 'Knowledge and skill are more important than games.'_)

~):(~

Years pass, and despite Harry's repeated efforts, the voice's sentiment doesn't change. It's staunch stance makes it a rather painful experience for Harry every time the Potter twins visit the Burrow. A (not so small) part of Harry wants to play Quiditch and trade friendly barbs with the other redheaded children. But a larger part, driven by the voice, directs his steps instead towards the studious quiet of Percy Weasley's room. There, the duo spend their time reading. Occasionally, Harry asks the older boy questions. Harry suspects that the only reason Percy deigns to answer any is because Harry's presence ensures that Molly Weasley's wrath (ready to devour any of her children who dare bully house guests) prevents the twins from disrupting Harry (and thus Percy's) studying with their trademark pranks.

_'Then again,'_ Harry thinks, _'sometimes I wonder if maybe Percy answers my questions because he genuinely doesn't mind me staying in here with him.'_

"Percy?"

"Mhm." Percy responds, though his eyes don't leave his parchment, where the Weasley continues to write notes.

"I don't understand." Seven-year-old Harry points to a chapter in the large tomb in his lap. "I'm reading about the case of Theseus Armagerd during the First Wizarding War."

Percy's eyes still remain on his parchment, but his quill slows. Noting Percy's piqued attention, Harry continues. "I just… well, it doesn't make sense. Why did the Ministry convict him?"

"It's rather obvious, Harry," Percy tuts. "There are laws, rules. Theseus broke them, so he was convicted."

Harry frowns, his nose scrunches. "But surely they understood that Theseus only did what he did to protect his family?"

Percy finally meets Harry's gaze. "It doesn't matter the reasons, Harry. The law is the law for a reason, and when Theseus broke it, the Ministry had every right to persecute him for it."

"But what if it had been you?" Harry's voice grows impassioned. "Theseus broke the law to save his sister's life. Wouldn't you do anything if it meant protecting Ginny from someone who wanted to hurt her?"

Percy's blue eyes widen, Harry's stare persists. The eldest Potter takes a deep breath, before continuing. "Blindly accepting the Ministry's rules means you think the laws are perfect, which they aren't. If they were, why are there still wars? Why do laws get revised?" Harry frowns. "Laws change. Ministries change... Family doesn't."

Silence reigns for a few moments, before loud applause interrupts the stalemate. Outside, Evan and Ron's clapping and repeated exclamations of _"Team Bill, Team Bill!"_ slip through Percy's window, breaking the tension in the room. The other boys' joy twists Harry's gut in envy. Then the cheering fades, and Percy gives Harry a considering sort of look, before returning to his work. "You can join them, you know." Percy mumbles, flipping a page too quickly to have actually read it.

The cheers seem to fade, the room is quiet again.

_('Some people need you more than others.'_ The voice says, sounding almost apologetic._)_

So even though Harry wants to say okay and goodbye, instead he says, "I had another question."

Percy startles, clearly surprised that Harry is choosing to stay. He answers Harry's following question about America's involvement in the first war readily before returning to his book. A couple of minutes later, Harry sneaks a look towards the older Weasley, and catches the small smile hidden behind Percy's book.

~):(~

Another example of knowledge that Harry shouldn't have (but does), comes in the form of his Uncles Sirius and Remus.

Although no one ever told him, Harry knows that Uncle Remus is a werewolf, which makes him very tired and grumpy during certain parts of the month. And so, when a weary Uncle Moony visits Potter Manor one day, dragging himself there too soon after a full moon because he doesn't want to miss the twins' eighth birthday, Harry offers the man a large piece of Bertie Bott's chocolate.

Remus's tired eyes widen. "What's this for, Harry?"

Harry just shrugs, before retreating back to the couch to finish reading, _The Goblin Rebellion: Truths and Tales._

Harry wants to say that he knows Uncle Remus needs some extra attention during this time of the month, and wants to hug his Uncle Moony and mumble _'thank you for caring enough to come, even when you aren't feeling good,'_ into the older man's shirt. But Harry doesn't, because the voice is already clawing along the inside of his head, gouging into the walls of his mind, angry about the small interaction with the chocolate.

(_'Too close, too close; a deal is a deal. Don't you dare go back on your word, or there will be terrible consequences.'_)

During the party, Uncle Remus repeatedly tries to encourage Harry to play with the other kids (the Weasleys, Neville Longbottom, and a couple of other guests). But Harry ignores his suggestions readily, not even hugging the weary man when his werewolf Uncle finally leaves.

(_'Too close, too close.'_)

His dog Uncle, unsurprisingly, finally arrives after everyone has left. He enters the Manor more than a little harried himself.

"Sorry for being late, pup. But, you didn't think I'd forget to bring a present for my favourite Prongslet, did you?"

Uncle Sirius gently and slowly puts a hand on Harry's shoulder as he talks (it was a well-known fact in the family that Harry didn't appreciate hugs, after an especially violent reaction on his fifth birthday a few years prior.)

"Hey!" Wails the newly eight-year-old, and now offended, Evan.

"Sorry Ev. Moony and I are obligated to favour our respective godsons." Uncle Sirius teases with a wink.

Evan makes a grand show of pouting, but then seems placated enough when Uncle Sirius dramatically hands him a fancy new training broom wrapped in a shiny red and gold bow. The youngest Potter excitedly runs to their father to beam and ramble about how it "matches perfectly with the Quidditch equipment that Uncle Moony got me, doesn't it Dad!?"

His ink-haired uncle gives a long-suffering (but thoroughly amused) laugh before he turns back to his official godson. "Happy Birthday, Harry," The grey-eyed man says softly, before offering Harry a similar broom.

Harry almost takes it, he almost smiles, but then his gut lurches violently.

('_...terrible consequences.'_)

"I don't fly," Harry hears himself say to his godfather. "I don't like Quidditch." Then, something bitter and ugly takes over. It is hollow and vicious, a hostile force that makes Harry feel like Sirius has abandoned him more than once. In the back of his mind, he sees the shrinking outline of a man flying away on a hippogriff, _sees himself young and trapped and banging against a claustrophobic cupboard, sees a red-faced and thick-necked man holding him off the floor by his collar and calling him freak._ "I don't fly," Harry repeats, louder. Then he glares sharply at Sirius. "You'd know that if you were actually around."

"_Harry_!" James scolds immediately. "Say thank you for the gift. And apologize, right now. Don't you _ever _talk to your Uncle Sirius that way again."

His uncle looks stricken, as though Harry just stabbed the gifted broom between the man's ribs. And then Uncle Sirius morphs. For a moment, instead of a disheartened and clean-shaven man in slightly wrinkled Auror robes, Harry sees _a cachectic man in torn pinstripes, with a half-crazed gaze hissing, "make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for—"_

A strong hand clamps firmly on Harry's forearm, distracting him from the vision. "I said apologize, Harry. _Now._"

Harry immediately tries to yank his arm away from James's unrelenting grip, seeing a ghoulish grey arm instead of his father's hand. _"They are corpses," said Dumbledore calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding." A wet cave. A black lake. A creaking boat. A painful poison. __An ongoing scream._

"Harry!" His father raises his voice once more, shaking Harry by the arm roughly. Harry recoils jaggedly, panic from a memory he doesn't understand overwhelming him. "Let go of me!" Harry screeches. "Let go of me, _NOW_!"

James Potter slams into the nearest wall with a horrible thud.

"Dad!" "James!" Evan and Uncle Sirius chorus over each other.

While Evan and Sirius race towards his fallen father, Harry runs upstairs, the shadows of dead wraiths chasing his steps and clawing at his legs.

The green-eyed boy slams the door without his hands, locking himself in his room. He crawls under his sheets, shaking, but unable to sleep. About an hour later, the ghoulish forms writhing around his bed finally disappear, and he cautiously scuttles back out of his bedroom. On his way to the larger bathroom on the upper floor – the one with the pretty marble walls and silver awnings that he likes – Harry hears whispers echoing from downstairs. Curious, he sneaks closer to the noise, and eavesdrops on a ongoing conversation between his father and godfather.

"Well at least we know he isn't a squib now." Uncle Sirius says lightly, in a trademark attempt at mistimed levity. Harry notes that the older man's effort comes off wearier than usual.

His father sighs. "You can't just let him get away with rude behaviour like that, Sirius. You need to have a firmer hand with him."

Uncle Sirius's voice sharpens. "I think you're plenty firm enough with him for the both of us, James." Then Uncle Padfoot seems to decide to not pursue a familiar argument again, and off-handedly continues. "But hey, I think that that's the most words I've ever gotten out of him in a row. So, cheers to small wins!"

Harry hears the clinking of glasses, decides he can go one night without brushing his teeth, and quietly tiptoes back to his room._ 'They thought I was a squib?'_

Harry hates that he hurt Uncle Sirius with the voice's words, because a part of Harry cares for Sirius most of all. And Harry doesn't actually begrudge his godfather the man's absences, despite what he said earlier, because it is just another thing that Harry _knows_. He knows that his godfather loves him, but that the man feels obligated to spend most of his time chasing down the still-AWOL criminal and traitor, Peter Pettigrew. For a moment, back when Harry first wondered why Uncle Sirius was always missing, Harry suspected that perhaps Prongs wasn't the only Marauder in love with Lily Evans. But the voice had corrected his incorrect thoughts quickly enough.

_('Guilt breeds obsession, you're hardly ignorant of that.')_

Which, fine. Harry can sort of understand his Uncle's guilt. But even though Harry doesn't begrudge Sirius, it's pretty hard to not begrudge his father. That's because, for as long as Harry can remember, his father has hated the sight of him, yet pretends not to, all the same. Harry decides not to think too much about the way his dad looks at him when he thinks Harry isn't looking.

It gives him a headache in his chest.

_('Love of the father… fate of the lover.')_

~):(~

Harry also _knows_ muggle things. He knows the difference between a telly and a telephone, even though he has never stepped foot in the muggle world. He knows the heady smell of car exhaust fumes, fuel, and dust that mix together and imbue London's busy streets. He knows he misses electricity, even though he's never seen a light switch.

_('You're prone to missing things you've never had. You always have been.')_

~):(~

On the twins' ninth birthday, Harry meets Professor Dumbledore for the 'first' time (since he was a baby). Harry knows that the elderly man heads the Order, even though Harry shouldn't even know what the Order is. And when the Headmaster and meets his eyes, Harry knows there is a missing twinkle (now replaced instead with a suspicious glint). Then, suddenly, he feels like the Headmaster is poking his head, even though the man's hands remain at the sides of his garish robes. Harry hears the voice laugh coarsely. _'Worry not, my wall will hold against his intrusion. But you should leave the room now, or I'm going to do something bad.'_

Harry immediately turns and runs back towards the library, not bothering to be excused. Behind him, he hears his father yell out his name in shock, then apologize profusely for his _son's_ 'rude' behaviour. He even catches the tail end of Evan telling Dumbledore to not be offended, that "Harry is rude to everyone," and tries to ignore the burn in behind his eyes when no one corrects Evan.

That same night, after his father finishes yelling at him profusely for his poor manners with the headmaster, Harry lies in bed for hours before finally succumbing to sleep. There, he dreams about a young orphan trapped in a cement bedroom, setting a cabinet on fire. _Then, the fire turns an angry fluorescent green, twisting into a ferocious dragon that chases Harry out of a room of mismatched things and he can feel the flames approaching and the racing of his heart and the scream of a curly-haired girl from above as he is held back by a cage and a man with an iron hand who chokes himself and Dumbledore telling Harry that Flamel's death will not be a tragedy but rather a carefully planned and welcomed sacrifice for the greater good and 'I open at the close' and-_

He avoids Dumbledore as much as he can after that, even though the old man persists on coming to the Potter boys' tenth and eleventh birthdays as well. The voice instructs Harry to never again meet Dumbledore's eyes, and Harry listens readily.

~):(~

So clearly, after all these years, Harry _knows_ things.

However, Harry also _suspects_ things.

The voice likes to feed a continuous paranoia that Harry doesn't understand, but must obey. It leads to him hoarding his galleons; any spare coin he sees in Potter Manor, any coin sent from Uncle Sirius or Aunt Alice. He even collects any piece of gold in the many unused rooms in Potter Manor, spare change that is easy enough for him to pilfer and small enough to not be missed. He asks for galleons whenever anyone asks what he wants for holiday or birthday presents. Harry even hoards all the change from when he overestimates how much his father needs to give him for a trip to _Flourish and Blotts_.

For some reason, it feels like one day, he'll need every bit to ensure his survival.

_'Doesn't make a lick of sense,'_ Harry thinks begrudgingly, not for the first time, as he stores his galleons in the little leather pouch from Aunt Alice, the one that he keeps on him always. _'I'm the heir of a Noble House. I'll never want for money. You act like one day I'll be starving, but I don't even know what it feels like to go hungry.'_

(_'You did. You will. She will too.'_)

_'Who?'_

Harry doesn't get a response. He doesn't expect or pester the voice for an answer either, because it has a long-established nasty habit of selective hearing. _'Besides,'_ thinks Harry, _'it'll let me know what it means, eventually.'_

~):(~

Harry also _suspects_ that the voice in his head probably means that he is bound for a permanent bed in St. Mungo's.

Progressively so.

Because it's not just the voice and the visions. Sometimes, Harry blacks out, and... things... things _happen_. Like the leather pouch from Aunt Alice, which after two hours of 'blacking out' somehow has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. After another three hours of blacking out four days later, Harry finds a trace-less wand in the pouch, the kind that is illegal to have and only available from the black markets in the depths of Knockturn Alley. This knowledge on tracer-free wands is, of course, just another informative tidbit that Harry has no business knowing, and no book to blame for its acquisition, yet somehow still inherently knows anyways.

~):(~

Harry _suspects_ Evan loves him, even if the youngest Potter doesn't exactly like him. It's a bit sad, actually, just not in the direction you'd think. Because, at least Evan loves Harry. Harry doesn't feel anything towards Evan outside of a strange sense of displacement and otherness.

_"You don't belong here. You should have never even been born." Six-year-old Harry announces to Evan, bluntly. _ _The youngest Potter immediately starts balling, tears streaming down his cheeks while he runs to find their father._

Harry didn't mean to be mean, back then.

_"It's just the truth," he tells his father, who frowns before grounding Harry to his room for the rest of the evening. Young _ _Harry bears his punishment in silence, while internally confused. His words had been true, just another fact among many. The sky was blue. The sun rose every morning. Evan Potter was the anomaly, with the S-shaped scar along the curve of his jaw; The Boy Who Conquered._

(_'the boy who shouldn't exist.'_)

~):(~

When Harry is eleven (about ten months before he is due for his Hogwarts acceptance letter), the voice instructs him to get himself to Flourish and Blott's on September 21st. Harry isn't too bothered by the order, as he has grown fond of the bookstore and its owner over the years.

It is easy enough to manipulate Evan into wanting to go, with a strategic placement of a flyer from _Quality Quidditch Supplies_.

So, on September 21st, three Potters enter a relatively calm Diagon Alley. _'Makes sense,'_ thinks Harry_. 'All the students are at Hogwarts now. All the first years that usually horde the streets in August are huddled in groups, clumsily maneuvering through __Hogwarts's winding halls, hurriedly attempting to find__ their classes .' _Harry hasn't yet been to Hogwarts, but he can easily picture the wide halls and changing staircases spotted with clusters of students sporting their various House colours.

The trio pass by Flourish & Blotts, and Harry turns to enter. He's stopped by Evan's quiet voice.

"Don't you want to go with us?"

Harry gives a distracted and laconic response, still eyeing the door to the bookshop. "I'd rather spend the day in here." Through the glass's reflection, he sees James place a hand on Evan's shoulder to prevent the younger Potter's impending explosion. Unfortunately, Glass-James's grip doesn't cap Evan's reaction completely. Glass-Evan bristles, eyes narrowing. "Why don't you ever want to spend time with us? You know, Harry, _this_ is why no one can stand you."

Glass-James frowns. "Evan, enough." It's a half-hearted reprimand, the type that a parent does when they don't wholly disagreed with their misbehaving child. The Potter patriarch sighs. "You're sure, Harry?"

Harry turns his head over his shoulder, nodding to his father.

James pinches to top of his nose in exasperation before shoving his hands into his money pouch. "How much will you need?"

Harry collects the more-than-needed galleons, bitterly thinking that perhaps if his father paid more attention to books he'd realize he always gave Harry too much (_'if you paid more attention to books and learning, perhaps my mother would still live.'_). His father instructs him to meet them back at Florean Fortescue's in three hours (the sweet treat a very unsubtle attempt to soothe Evan's growing ire). Harry nods in agreement, then turns to enter the bookstore. As Evan and his father walk off, he overhears his brother bemoan the absence of their godfathers.

His younger twin's throwaway comment brings his godfather's nomadism once more to Harry's mind. Harry used to suspect James Potter wasn't the only Marauder in love with Lily Evans. How else could someone explain his godfather's relentless search for Peter Pettrigew? Harry even used to wonder if perhaps Sirius loved Lily Evans more than James Potter did, because otherwise why wasn't _his father_ out searching for the man responsible for their mother's death?

It didn't take Harry long to piece together the answer with the help of the voice: James Potter stayed. because James Potter's love for his dead wife was surpassed by one thing... his love for Evan.

"Harry m'boy!" The shopkeeper smiles widely, waving from behind the till. "Ever glad to see you back, lad. How's my most loyal patron been? Tell me, how did you enjoy _Magic's Most Mythical Families?_ And what about _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_?"

Harry's morose expression shifts to neutral. "Good afternoon, Mr. Blotts. Glad to be back, Sir." He approaches the front table. "I've been well. I quite liked the books, thank you for your assistance in finding them. They were rather enlightening. I especially enjoyed the chapters on Morgana in Notable's."

"Atta lad, thought you'd like it." Mr. Blotts nods approvingly. "Most are quite surprised by the truth behind her, why with how the muggle writers began to spin her history." The older man shrugs, offers Harry a conspiring wink with a stage whisper. "Can't blame the writers though, a villain always makes for a better selling story."

Harry quirks a brow. "Or at least a less predictable one."

Mr. Blotts gives a small huff of a laugh. "Too true, lad. Too true. Now, any preferences today?"

Harry shakes his head. "Just browsing."

(_'And not for books,' _the voice snickers.)

"Well, you let me know if you need anything, alright now?"

"Yes sir. Thank you." Harry nods in farewell then walks towards the familiar isles of books. His outstretched arms let his hands brush against the titles of the tomes as he passes, the familiar coarseness of their leather spines calming him.

_('Deal's a deal.')_

Outside of Potter Library, this bookstore on Diagon Alley is Harry's favourite place in the entire world. Reading offers a blissful respite from the uncontrolled voice and visions that bombard him. Rather, reading forces the voice to offer relevant input and visions, related to the topic Harry reads about. The entire process gives Harry a sense of control over the direction of his own mind, an addictive state compared to his baseline (random mental onslaught). Books on spells interest Harry the most. He'd eagerly practice spells' wand movements with a stick or a utensil, or anything, really. And all he needed was to do it once and (like remembering something he had forgotten), the wandwork and pronunciation came to him effortlessly every try afterwards. Of course, he never practices the wand movements and saying the spells outside of Potter Manor or Potter Forest, nor with anyone else around.

(Because sometimes it doesn't matter that he waves around a spoon, the spells _work._)

Reading opened a window to more things that even the voice didn't say. Unfurling pockets of knowledge and filling in the gaps, lessening the confusion in his head. For example, last year, after Ron Weasley's tenth birthday party was winding down, Charlie had bounded up to Harry. The grinning older Weasley approached with a well-used snitch in one hand, and a well-flown broom in another, asking Harry to join their pick-up birthday Quidditch game. The interaction triggered a rather painful vision (_of_ _the golden snitch in Charlie's hand melting away to reveal a glowing stone whispering 'I open at the close,' again and again and again) _that distracted Harry until Evan roughly shook him to back to reality, furiously hissing "could you at least pretend to to not hate us all." Then, last month, when reading Mr. Blott's suggested _Magic's Most Mythical Families,_ Harry came across the history of the Peverell brothers, as well as the author's theory that the Tale of Three Brothers actually referred to them. The story produced a vision of a symbol with a triangle encapsulating a circle that was halved by a vertical line. After he blinked away the symbol, the voice whispered_ 'The Dealth Hallows,'_ with such reverence that Harry knew the author's words must be true. And when he read about the Resurrection Stone, he just _knew _that it had been the glowing stone from the vision. From the Potter Lineage Tome from the manor's library, Harry already knew that Ignotius's granddaughter (the last living Peverell) married into the Potter line. All in all, its a convoluted series of events that led him to suspect that the infamous Invisibility cloak that he's heard his uncles and father reference so frequently in their nostalgic stories of Hogwarts, is actually one of the hallows. Especially, when he reads more about the nature of invisibility cloaks, and realizes the life expectancy of them should not span years (let alone generations, like the Potter cloak has).

The voice pulls Harry from his musings, and urges him back to the present. Now in the isle relegated as the History section, the voice draws Harry's eyes to the newest edition of _Horper Hapler's History of Magic_. He's already read it, but the voice instructs him to read it again. Rolling his emerald eyes, Harry grabs it, and means to make towards the comfy blue reading chair in the west end of the store that he quite likes. But, of course, the voice takes hold of his feet, preventing him from stepping away.

(_'You'll read it right here.'_)

And so, Harry plops down onto the old but mostly clean floor. His back presses against the uneven surface of the books jutting from shelves, and he reads. Only a quarter of an hour later, he's half-reading an already read book, when a tinkling sound interrupts his concentration. He easily recognizes it as the soft ringing of the door's dangling bells, signalling the arrival of another customer.

"Welcome to Flourish & Blotts my dear! Here we have the largest selection of tomes and rolls in all of Diagon Alley. Is there anything at all that I can help you with today?"

The customer responds to Mr. Blotts too quietly for Harry to make out their response. There's about two isles of shelves between them (a second for history, as well as the row assigned to divination), so he can't see the new visitor or bookkeeper either.

"Oh, I do appreciate the pro-activeness, my dear. Minerva would just adore you for it. Unfortunately, you're simultaneously too early and late, I'm afraid to say. Most of the first year books are on back order, my having sold them all to the recent batch of new students, you see? It'll be another few weeks before the publishers will catch up and we'll start restocking. Besides, you might make better use of your galleons if you wait a few months to be certain there are no new editions being announced!"

The customer responds, again too quietly for Harry to make out their words.

"Hmm, a book to introduce you to the magical world, eh? Well how about—"

The erratic_ beat beat beat_ in Harry's chest drowns out Mr. Blott's words. Panic takes hold of his hands as they tremble and struggle to keep hold of his book. '_Stop it,' _he roughly commands the voice (because he knows himself enough to know that this surge of fear is not his own.) The anxiety-laden tremors subside just in time, as a pair of ratty shoes turning into his occupied isle and enter the edge of his peripheral vision.

He forces his gaze to stay on the lines of his book. _'Stay calm._' He urges the voice. Because bad things happen when the voice gets scared, and he is in public.

"Excuse me?" The words are whispered so quietly that Harry nearly questions whether or not they were actually spoken. The newcomer continues. "I believe the book I need is behind you. Would you mind?" He looks up at, and the girl flusters, rushing to add. "Just for a moment. So sorry to disturb your reading."

_('Someone. Hurt. Her.')_

The thought booms in Harry's mind as he registers her sunken cheeks, limp hair, and small frame that drowns in her oversized sweater and faded jeans.

Behind her shoulder, another vision manifests; it's a warbling black and grey wraith. The hallucination wraps a skeletal hand around the girl's throat, mockingly singing: _"And here I thought you a hero."_

_'Help her. Help her, now!' _Harry's inner voice seethes, its anger loudly hitting against the walls of Harry's head, scoring its nails into the flesh behind his eyes.

"Which book?" Harry asks, jaw clenching as he tries to ignore the inner assault. As he stands, the wraith morphs into translucent grey chains, crawling over the girl's stomach and neck and scrawny limbs. When his gaze returns to her face, she flushes and looks to the side, embarrassed over what she likely supposes was a perusal and judgement of her rather ragged appearance.

"Hogwarts: A History," she mumbles quietly.

Harry tilts his head. "I like that one, it's one of my favorites, I think." He turns to grab the book, easily finding it in the spot two books away from where he grabbed his own, and then plops back onto the ground, settling into the warm space he left.

"Well?" He gestures the spot next to him. "Are you going to sit?" He keeps the book - the only copy - in his hand, and makes it abundantly clear that the girl will only get it if she sits beside him. Her eyes widen at his implication, and she fiddles with her hands before seeming to decide that her desire for the book outweights whatever risk she takes by joining him.

She sits down cautiously, positioning herself a polite distance away from him. The voice seems rather offended by this, so Harry moves over until their sides are nearly a breath away from being plastered together. She flinches at his proximity, and Harry blinks away the angry screeching in in his head. He hands the book over to her, but keeps his grip on the spine, covering the script of _'A History'_ with his palm. "What's your name?" He asks, unnecessarily.

"...Hermione."

_'I know.' _He thinks, finally loosening his hold the book._ 'I also know you shouldn't be poor, because you should be the daughter of two dentists, who go on trips abroad every summer.' _Instead of voicing his thoughts, he says, "I'm Harry. Hermione's a pretty name. Shakespeare, right?"

She looks unsettled for a moment, then nods slowly, while accepting the book from him. She tilts her head, and a few dull brown strands limp in front of her sallow cheek. "I didn't realize magic folk knew about him too."

_'Most don't,'_ Harry shrugs. "Your parents must be rather well-read to pick such an obscure name from his work," he asks pointedly.

Hermione freezes. "They were." She murmurs quietly, before opening the book's cover and closing the conversation.

They read their respective books for about another half an hour, before Harry breaks the silence.

"Are they dead?" He asks, gaze locked on paragraph in his hands describing the unfortunate obsolescence of ritual magic.

From his peripheral vision, he sees Hermione tense. Keep his attention on her as her eyes harden and refuse to leave her current page in _Hogwarts a History_. Her previously quiet voice turns sharp. "It's rather rude to ask such personal questions of a stranger."

"My mom is dead." Harry flips a page. "Killed, actually."

"Oh!" Hermione's gaze rips off her page, she turns towards Harry, flustered. "I- I'm sorry." She pauses, clearly curious but nervous to speak. "Who… umm… do you know wh—"

"Voldemort." Harry fingers the corner of the next page, before turning it roughly enough that the parchment nearly tears.

Hermione frowns, repeating the moniker under her breath like one would handle an unpalatably stale cracker. "What an odd name."

"His true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. 'I am Lord Voldemort' is an anagram for it. I imagine he thought himself clever for thinking it up. Anagram or not though, he needed to change his name. His blood-purist followers would never have bowed to a man with a muggle surname."

Hermione frowns. "Blood purist?"

Harry's eyes meet hers unflinchingly. "It's what you call the magical folks who will think less of you because you don't have magical parents."

"... And do these 'blood purists' still exist?"

_'Are you one?'_ Harry hears her unspoken accusation, recognizes it from the way her neck tenses, and her body looks ready to bolt.

_'What happened to you?'_ Harry's gut twists. _'That you're so ready to assume the worst in every stranger you meet.'_

"I'm not one." Harry reassures her, though she still looks ready to bolt. "But yes, they do."

She makes a quiet oh with her lips, before frowning into her textbook. Harry supposes he understands. It must be disheartening to enter a shiny new magical world, to seek refuge in it, only to realize that bigots exist here too.

"Also, I'd appreciate you not mentioning that bit about Voldemort's name to anyone. Very few others know."

Hermione turns her gaze back to him, and raises a brow. "But then why… I don't understand... if it's a secret... " She shakes her head. "You told me, but I'm a stranger to you."

"You're going to be my friend. I trust you."

His blunt words seem to strike her dumb. Her mouth tastes the word _friend_ over and over, before her cheeks tinge red and she buries her face behind her book.

After another ten or so minutes of silence, Harry stretches a hand over arm to close her book.

"Where is Professor McGonagall, Hermione? Why are you here alone?"

Her eyes turn in confusion. "Who?"

"Professor McGonagall," Harry stumbles a bit over the name, heart aching for a good woman who he's pretty sure died gruesomely in one of his visions. "The stern Scottish lady, the one who brought you your Hogwarts acceptance letter."

Hermione shakes her head.

"My letter wasn't brought by someone called Professor McGonagall." She tilts her brow. "I believe he said his name was Professor Snape."

~):(~

* * *

If you are enjoying this fic and want more chapters, **please leave a comment or review**! Let me know what you like/don't like, what you hope to see, and please please PLEASe let mek now if you guys spot any spelling or grammar mistakes.

**Question **: What are your thoughts on Harry in Ravenclaw with Hermione, versus in Slytherin with Hermione, versus Harry in Ravenclaw and Hermione in Slytherin?

* * *

**Preview of Upcoming Chapters**

* * *

Hermione, you have injuries that I can't treat properly unless I'm at Saint mungo's. And it looks like you're developing early signs of blood poisoning….

...

She was still hesitant, Harry scowls. "I spared him, Hermione." His grip on her hand tightens, and he hisses. "I spared him. You _owe _me."

...

Sirius frowns, shaking his head in disbelief. "Merlin James, he's a child. What you're implying... I don't think this was some heinous plot. Harry just wants to help his friend. And even if all your worse paranoias have basis, how do you think keeping them away from each other is going to help?"

...

I saw how you looked at me when I came in, Uncle Sirius. You thought I was the one that hurt her. And even if it was just for a second, in that moment, you showed me you were just like everyone else: eager to believe the worst in me.

...

The ratty hat seems to smile conspiratorially as it boldly shouts, "

* * *

**Responses to Reviewers**

**for chapters 1 and 2**

* * *

nagi92, TLM8, misslittlepsycho24, Yumnow2point0, Winter_is_here, Chelonie, LittleKatt, Chelonie, chicago51, EquaYonah - thank you so much for your responses to the questions!

Galligar - thanks for your review, I'll try to avoid the info dumps in the future! But the first few chapters might have some to orient people to the AU changes :)

LooneyLuna15 - sorry, Evan won out when I tallied the AO3/ffn reviews. But I used Charlus as his middle name :)

jzraael - you read my mind ;) Was always the plan to have Remus as Evan's godfather. The other WBWL fics where Sirius godfather to them both confuse me immensely.

Guest - I get why you're mad at James, but remember, his OOC-ness will be explained ;) I adore Alice too and also feel like she doesn't deserve to come second to Lily :)

only harmony - I will try to make longer chapters. I usualyl have quite long chapters in my fic, but for one of my ongoing GOT/ASOIAF fics thats my fav to write (Wolves Aflame), one of the reviewers mentionned that making long chapters can tire out a reader, so I'm experimenting with shorter ones to see how the response to those go :)

Dark Lord Potter Black sshhiippeerr - I'm leaning in that direction too!

kaiai - yay thanks so much for giving it a chance!

Elwyn (Iltazyara) - thank you SO much for your detailed POV on whether Hermione should be in Slytherin, you have given me a lot to think about! Even if I end up putting her in slytherin I will try to avoid mischaracterizing the purebloods. She and Harry will definitely be OP though compared to cannon, but I'm going tto give a (hopefully believable) explanation. Usually keep my AN in the text to expedite pasting between ffn and AO3 :)

Nissy Padfoot, GrangerBlackPotter, Yecatsj - thanks so much for your reviews!


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